


Rescued

by Mikey (mikes_grrl)



Series: Animal House [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Cat, Cor-mmandos, Corgis, Dogs, Fix-It, Grumpy Cat - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Pets, Pining, Romance, UST, pet!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikes_grrl/pseuds/Mikey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has a cat, and then he has Phil's corgis. Nothing seems to go right, until it does. </p><p>(The infamous "Corgi!verse" fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tawg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawg/gifts).



Donut came first.

Actually, Phil came first, although only in a round-about and frustratingly unavailable way. Clint tended not to collect people or things, but the man who brought him in to SHIELD had wormed his way into Clint's life in a way that Clint was not inclined to deny. If he loved Agent Phil Coulson from afar like the girl pining for the hero in one of Natasha's bodice rippers that she denied reading, then that was Clint's problem and no one else's.

Which brought up Clint's second acquisition, which was Natasha. Not that she truly belonged to him, or anyone, but she was the only other person Clint would have called a permanent part of his personal life. 

So, actually, Donut came third. And she came as a surprise. 

Phil had forced Clint into an apartment at some point. It was furnished and paid for by SHIELD, but it was fairly plain and ordinary, on the third floor of an older apartment building that was politely shy of run-down. Phil called it inconspicuous, Clint called it cheap. 

Clint's cover was a transparent one: he told people he was a professional bodyguard who worked private security gigs and traveled a lot for them. It kept some of his more annoying neighbors at bay and his nicest neighbor, elderly Mr. Delany, worried on his behalf. He often came home from a mission to find a large plastic container of stew in his refrigerator, because Mr. Delany had a key to the place in order to water Clint's plants while he was gone. It was all absurdly normal, the kind of life that Clint had mostly watched other people live from a distance. Which was probably how he had ended up letting his guard down.

He was coming home from someplace wet and cold in Eastern Europe (he hadn't been the pilot, he had been the guy hanging forty feet down from a rope under the chopper while bleeding on Natasha, who was still bitching about her soiled uniform) when he put the key in the lock of his door. 

"Mr. Barton! Mr. Barton!" Mr. Delany hobbled down the hallway, making good time despite the cane. "Please help! Oh, please! Mr. Barton!"

Clint tensed up instinctively. "What's going on, Mr. Delany?"

"Hurry! Hurry! He's going to kill her!" Mr. Delany was close to tears. 

Shifting his injured arm out of the sling hurt, but Clint figured he would need mobility more. "Where?" 

"Basement! I didn't know what to do! I—" The poor guy broke down sobbing. Clint ran for the stairs, knowing he could skip down faster than the old creaky elevator could go, since it was only four flights to get into the basement. He felt his adrenaline ramping up again, still bitter in his blood from the hard mission. When he slammed the door open to the common laundry room, he found a tall, gangly man holding something underwater in the large utility sink, and it took a very simple move to incapacitate the guy. Clint didn't even use his bad arm to do it. While the guy writhed in pain on the floor, Clint grabbed the bag out of the water and dumped the occupant out, hoping he had been in time to save the baby. 

But it was far too small for a baby, and it looked more like a drowned rat. It took Clint a second to realize that it was just a kitten. 

A small, beige kitten that lay there, unmoving. Clint stared at it. It still didn't move. 

He picked her up and stuck her nose into his mouth, breathing into it, then pulled her out and gave her tiny little chest a small squeeze. She promptly puked out water and started coughing. 

"You saved her! You saved her!" Mr. Delany, still crying, stood in the doorway, completely ignoring the whines of pain from the guy on the floor. 

The kitten was as big as Clint's palm, tiny and fragile in the way only newborns could be. "What the hell?"

"He breeds them! They are all very purebred, but if they come out deformed he just drowns them down here before throwing them in the garbage. I…I've never been able to stop him before." Mr. Delany not-very-accidentally thwacked the guy with his cane as he walk by. "Oh look at her!"

Clint tilted his head while the kitten sputtered in his palm. "What's wrong with her?"

Mr. Delany poked her gently and tipped her face up. "Deformed hips, looks like. Very odd facial deformity, never seen anything like it. Oh, pretty little girl, Daddy saved you huh?"

Clint blinked. "Daddy?"

Mr. Delany looked at him sternly. "You can't just let her go. She's barely three weeks old. She needs to be taken care of."

"I don't know shit—I mean, I don't know anything about cats. Not housecats, anyway," Clint added, remembering Khan the Tigress and her daughters from his circus days. 

"Good thing for you I'm a retired veterinarian. Let's go warm this girl up. I'll have Edward get some kitten solution delivered and I'll show you how to use it." Mr. Delany wrapped the kitten up in a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, then handed her back over to Clint, who grabbed at her without thinking.

"Wait, no…Edward? What?" Clint stumbled behind in Mr. Delany's wake. 

"Edward bought my practice when I retired. I'll give you his number, you'll need to take her in for checkups and inoculations and what not. Good kid, steady hand. Better with dogs than cats but I wouldn't have sold to him if he weren't trustworthy."

"I don't need a cat," Clint said.

"Who does? But I don't think you're letting her go, are you?" Mr. Delany tapped the back of Clint's hand, where he was holding the kitten close to his chest. 

Clint looked down at the tiny, frowning creature huddled in his grasp, then back at his damned interfering neighbor. "I guess not."

Which was how Clint ended up with Donut the Cat. 

…the dogs came later.


	2. Chapter 2

Friday was pet day at SHIELD, or at least corgi day. Phil had three of the monsters, named Stevie, Bucky, and Dum Dum (of course). All of SHIELD called them the Howling Cor-mmandos because when Fury "secretly" stole them during lunch for a game of fetch in the suddenly-empty gymnasium, the barking and howling could be heard four floors up. They were the only pets ever brought into the building, which Clint suspected said a lot about SHIELD agents. Pets, children and spouses were not things most of them kept around for long. 

Phil, of course, was the exception. He doted on his corgis who (when not playing fetch with Fury or begging Hill for treats) followed him around adoringly. They did everything he told them to without question, were quiet when he told them to be quiet, and slept happily at his feet under the desk. Clint could not compete with that, so he had resigned himself to coming in fourth on Phil's list of pets. The corgis agreed with his assessment, piling up on him like pack-mates whenever he came in to Phil's office to sit on the small sofa and explain whatever his latest infraction was, making it very clear that Clint was at the bottom of the pecking order.

Stevie, unsurprisingly, was the ring leader and took it as his personal mission to herd Clint into corners. No one really understood why, and Phil always gave him an absent-minded "good boy" whenever he came across Clint standing in a corner with Stevie sitting in front of him. Clint was never sure if Phil was talking to him or the dog. 

Clint finally figured out how to escape Stevie, by going _up_ into the ceiling and ventilation system. This drove all of the dogs batshit insane, and Clint gleefully spent many Friday afternoons scrambling through the walls and air shafts of SHIELD while the Cor-mmandos ran up and down the hallways, tripping agents as they chased the sounds and scent of Clint. Everyone got used to just letting the dogs go where ever they wanted, even into the high-security sections, knowing that they were probably in hot pursuit of Clint and that neither force was stoppable. 

It was all fun and games, but it did not really make Clint a part of Phil's family and sometimes, when Phil called the dogs to him with a sharp whistle, Clint wanted nothing more than to follow and go home with them to Phil's place. Instead he waved Phil away good naturedly and ignored the hollow, empty feeling in his stomach as he headed back to his own apartment, alone. 

Until one Friday morning, while Clint was getting dressed in his crappy apartment, Donut veered off course (again) and ran into his ankle. Clint realized he was not quite as alone as he thought he was, and that there was one creature on Earth to whom Clint fully belonged. 

Clint had never actually owned a pet before, but now that he had Donut, he knew what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole idea of the Howling Cor-mmandos came out of a twitter discussion about [this image](http://mikeys-den.tumblr.com/post/37049300635/lovecoloredspark-phil-is-a-corgi-man) showing Phil and his corgi, Stevie. I was ruthlessly coerced into writing the resulting fic. I am BLAMELESS, I tell you!
> 
> And yes, eventually you will all find out why Clint named his cat Donut!


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell is that?" Fury stopped at the door of the conference room and pointed at Clint's chest, where Donut was curled up in her sling.

"My cat."

"Your what?"

"It's Friday, sir."

"I know damned good and well it's Friday. That is why we are having a department meeting."

"Friday is pet day, sir. We can bring in our pets. This is my pet. Her name is Donut."

"What motherfucking idiot names his cat Donut?"

Clint pulled her out of her sling and put her on the conference table, where in a fit of anxious curiosity she immediately started walking in circles. 

"What the hell is your cat doing, Barton?" Fury watched her as she spun, a slightly horrified look on his face. "Is she possessed? What the fuck is she doing?"

"She's doing donuts, sir." Clint picked her up and settled her back in the sling, where she started purring. "Her back hips are deformed, so her left leg goes faster than her right. When she gets excited, she does donuts."

Fury peered at her. "Why is she frowning at me?"

Hill snorted a laugh. 

"Because she was born that way, sir. It's just a weird, adorable deformity."

"She looks pissed off."

"She's not. She's purring right now."

Fury stood up. "You have a miniature cat who can't walk in a straight line and who looks perpetually pissed off at everyone, and you named her Donut."

For the first time, Clint had second thoughts about his plan for Pet Friday. "Yes sir." 

Fury glared at him for a moment, but just then the door opened and Phil and the Cor-mmandos thundered in. Donut huddled closer and tried to hiss (she was not very good at it, due to her slightly disfigured jaw). Clint petted her with a heavy hand to calm her down.

Fury looked at the dogs as they romped about the room, Stevie jumping on and off an empty chair four times in a row while Bucky and Dum Dum barked at him. Phil settled his paperwork in front of him then snapped his fingers, and the dogs all rolled to halt at his feet. 

Fury sighed. "What the fuck ever, Barton."

Phil looked up in surprise, and then down at Clint's chest. "Congratulations on the cat, Barton. It looks just like you." 

Hill face planted on the table, laughing so hard she couldn't even talk. Natasha just rolled her eyes. 

##

Less than six weeks later, Phil took on a god and lost. 

Which was how Clint ended up with the dogs.

##

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donut is an amalgam of Tard the Grumpy Cat and my ex-Husband's cat, "W". Tard is very small and has genetic deformities that make her look like she is frowning all the time; my ex-Husband's cat is a pure-bred Himalayan with the same color markings as Tard, but who was born with deformed hips and so was dropped off by his breeder at the emergency vet clinic which is where we adopted him. "W" really does walk in circles just as I describe here, and also walks all hunched up like a raccoon, so truly he can't walk in a straight line to save his life. He does a lot of "tacking", and running into things. The sling that Clint uses to carry Donut around is based on one I used for my cat Pirate who was fairly small and, by the time he was 20 years old, pretty much an invalid. He loved riding around with me in his sling while I did homework or watched movies or even washed dishes. 
> 
> Donut kind of looked like this as a kitten:


	4. Chapter 4

Clint wondered just what in the hell he had gotten himself into. He had not planned on being the legal caretaker of the Cor-mmandos, but apparently Phil had. After the reading of Phil's will, which was short and bittersweet, Clint had sat in Fury's office, stunned speechless until Natasha punched him in the arm and told him it was his own fault for adopting a cat. Clint didn't really see the connection, but he was still too grief-stricken about Phil to argue. 

When he got to Phil's apartment that evening, it had been three days since Phil had died. The funeral had been held quickly, along with the rest of the funerals for SHIELD agents, and Clint had strategically stayed far away. Everyone knew that he had been under the control of Loki during the attack on the helicarrier, but even Clint could be sensitive to the fact that people might still be angry at him about it. He knew for a fact how irrational grief could be. Instead, Clint had picked up the address and keys to Phil's place and headed out to take charge of the most important things in Phil's life, because that had been Phil's last order to Clint and that made it, in a strange way, sacred.

Most of Manhattan was still a federal disaster area, and Phil's dog sitter had only been by once because she could not get out of her own block after the attack had started. It was pure luck that Phil had put her on duty before things got bad with Loki, but even so, Clint had walked into an apartment that was soiled with pee and poop. The dogs were frantic with hunger and worry, and it wasn't until Clint had watched them eat two measured servings of their food that he really looked around and took in just how momentously his life had changed. 

He did not even bother cleaning the place up. Professional cleaners were slated to come in once Phil's things were handed over to his sister in Minnesota, so it didn't matter. Clint put the dogs on leashes, loaded all of their dog beds and bowls and food and toys into the trunk of the SHIELD sedan he was driving, and headed straight for Avengers neé Stark Tower. Tony had already invited each of the avengers to set up there, mostly in temporary quarters until Tony got the top floors fixed back up. 

Clint didn't really have much of a plan, all he knew was that his crappy apartment could not hold him, three dogs and Donut. He walked through the lobby with the Cor-mmandos on high alert, excited and nervous and upset. 

"Agent Barton!" Captain America's voice rang through the large, marble-encrusted lobby. The few necessary staff who were there all stopped to stare as the American icon walked through the place, conspicuous even in overalls, work boots and a plaid flannel shirt. "I had no idea you had dogs!" Captain America grinned and went down on one knee. The Cor-mmandos, predictably, went crazy for him, wagging and whining and rubbing themselves all over him. Clint figured that was probably a common reaction to anyone meeting the Captain for the first time. 

"They aren't mine." Clint tugged at the leashes uselessly. 

"No? Then why are you walking them?" He looked up at Clint, genuinely confused.

"They are…they were Phil's."

The captain's face dropped. "I'm so sorry. He left them to you?" Steve kept petting them, the dogs jumping all over each other trying to get his attention. It was shameless and embarrassing but tugging on the leashes was doing nothing. Clint tried to remember how Phil used to bring them in line. 

"Yeah, and I don't have room for them. So I was going to take up Stark's offer on a place. I've got their stuff in the trunk and—"

"I'll get it!" Steve jumped up, almost like an eager puppy himself. Sighing, Clint walked them back to the car where the dogs barked happily as all of their things were pulled out and stacked into Captain Rogers' arms. Clint eyed him dubiously. 

"We can make two trips."

"No! The puppies need their stuff. It's going to be weird enough being in a new place, I imagine." 

"They aren't puppies," Clint grumbled as they marched back through the lobby, Captain Rogers barely visible behind the stack of dog beds, the large box of toys and dishes, and a huge bag of dog food. 

"What are their names?" Steve asked, deftly stepping over the dogs to get into the elevator, punching a code in for one of the upper floors with his pinky, which was the only finger he had free. 

Clint paused. 

"Agent Barton?"

"Call me Clint," Clint said, buying for time.

"Okay! Call me Steve."

"Great! Steve. Good."

"Uh, what are the dogs' names?"

"Look, I'll tell you their names, just don't…don't say anything."

Behind the box and bag and beds, Steve made a confused sound of agreement.

"Okay, the big blonde one is Stevie. The smaller dark, brindled one is Bucky. The fat red-haired one is Dum Dum."

The dogs danced around happily when they heard their names, but Steve didn't move. 

"Phil was a fan, you knew that, right?"

"I…I knew that," Steve said weakly. 

The door opened onto a broad, bright room that had several couches, a bar, and an entertainment system. The dogs pulled Clint out and Steve followed, dropping the stuff in his arms to the side. Tony walked in less than a minute later, while Clint was untangling leashes.

"JARVIS told me you were—What the hell?"

Clint opened his mouth to cuss the man out, but Steve stepped up in full command mode. "Tony, these are Phil Coulson's dogs. He left them to Clint, and he's moving in here."

"Over my dead body."

"You invited him, Tony. It's a package deal."

"I did not invite a pack of ravaging hounds!"

"They're corgis," Clint offered, but Steve motioned for him to step back.

"Tony, it's all or nothing. Can we really leave Phil's beloved dogs behind?"

"Yes!"

Steve crossed his arms. "No."

Tony rolled his eyes, but Clint could tell the battle was already over. He stood up. "I just need to know where my place is."

"Temp quarters are on the 43rd floor. Small, two-bedroom suites that were going to be executive suites for temporary…never mind. Forty-third floor. Pick any suite that doesn't have a name on it."

Natasha and Pepper appeared, walking out of the elevator. Pepper squealed. "Puppies!" She immediately went to her knees while the dogs wagged and barked and tried to crawl into her non-existent lap. Natasha skirted around them and took in Tony, Steve and Clint.

"You really brought the Howling Cor-mmandos to live in Avengers Tower?" She said skeptically. 

Steve blanched and Tony laughed out loud. Clint just glared at Natasha. "It's what Phil would want. And my apartment is too fucking small, you know that."

Her eyebrows arched up. "And what about Donut?"

"Oh! Who is Donut?" Pepper asked from under the pile of fluffy corgis. 

Clint dropped his face into his hands while Natasha laughed at him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donut interlude; the Cor-mmandos show up again tomorrow!

Moving Donut was far more complicated than the Cor-mmandos. The dogs had their beds and a few toys, but Donut had somehow, inexplicably and mysteriously amassed a large collection of cat beds (six), window ledges (two), cat towers (three), and step-ups (four). The step-ups were so she could get up on the couch and the bed and up to her window ledges, since her hips precluded her from jumping higher than foot off the floor. It was also why her cat towers looked more like stacked boxes, because she simply did not have the motion range or strength to climb anything more inclined than the back of the couch.

Steve, of course, offered to help, claiming that he had nothing else to do that afternoon. Pepper gleefully agreed to babysit the Cor-mmandos, which Clint suspected would involve a lot of girly things like grooming and eating fattening liver snacks. He vowed to keep the Cor-mmandos exposure to Pepper's wilily ways at a minimum…just as soon as Donut was settled.

"Gosh, she's small," Steve said, holding Donut in one large hand. He had her against his chest and she was happily head butting his pectoral. Clint could tell she was happy because her tail was twitching. Clint was going around and gathering up her things, and taking a mental tally of anything he might need himself. Donut's list was much longer.

"Does she always frown like that?" Steve sounded worried.

Clint dumped the last two cat beds on the large pile in the middle of his tiny living room. "That's her resting face."

"Her resting face?" 

"It's just the way she looks. And she walks in circles. I don't know, her parents were pure bred Himalayans but she just came out a little different."

Steve sighed, rubbing Donut's head with his thumb. "I know that feeling." 

Clint paused. He forgot that most of Steve's life had been spent as a sickly, skinny kid who got beat up a lot. For the first time, Clint thought that maybe he and Captain America might have something in common. 

"You have a lot of stuff for her," Steve said, giving the pile a confused look.

Clint waved a hand at the door. "It's my neighbor's fault. I go on a mission and I come back and there's something new for her. Mr. Delany spoils her rotten." Clint picked Donut up out of Steve's hold and cuddled her closely to his chest, scratching behind her ears and giving her a comforting nuzzle.

Steve looked at him skeptically. "Uh huh." 

Clint carefully put Donut in her carrier, making sure the fluffy towel on the bottom was folded right and that she had her beanie-baby teddy bear with her. She batted at the door when it closed and Clint tapped her paw. "No, be good. Daddy's got to move all of your crap. Yeah, be a good little brat! Good girl!"

He turned around to see Steve tucking his phone back in his pocket.

"Did you take a picture of that?" Clint growled.

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

"You need to stop watching the History Channel." 

"You know, when you get angry, you really do look just like her." 

"It's my resting face," Clint snapped, throwing a whole cat tower at Steve, who caught it easily and laughed at him.


	6. Chapter 6

Their first night all together as a family was awkward. Donut was not happy about the dogs; the dogs were very curious about the cat; and Clint just wanted a goddamn minute of sleep. Donut like sleeping next to Clint, but every time she got settled in the curl behind his knees, Bucky would creep up onto the bed and freak her out, which would start Stevie and Dum Dum barking. By three a.m., Clint was close to tears. 

At dawn, five minutes into sleep, Clint was woken up by the dogs whining to go out. That was the first moment that Clint actually processed the fact that "out" was 43 floors down and several blocks away. Groaning, he rolled out of bed. Donut was glaring at him accusingly, which he could not really blame her for, and decided that at least if he took the dogs for a walk then she would get some sleep.

He got as far as the first block. 

"Steve?" Clint yelled desperately into his phone while the dogs tried to trip him with their leashes. Again.

"Tell me what the problem is. I can have everyone assembled in ten minutes," Steve answered crisply.

"No! No, it's not that. Nothing serious. I'm trying to walk the damn dogs and I need some CRAP!" Clint spun and did a half flip to escape certain death as Dum Dum ran in circles, twisting his leash around Clint's ankles. The few commuters on the sidewalk gave him a wide berth. 

"Clint?" 

"I need help walking the damn dogs. Get down here!" 

"On my way," Steve said and hung up. Less than two minutes later, he walked out of the tower looking clean and immaculate in his jeans and sweatshirt, the first rays of dawn creating a halo of perfection around his blond hair. 

"I hate you so much," Clint growled, handing over the leashes for Stevie and Bucky. "You take them, before I kill them." 

Steve grinned. "Hey guys! Who wants to work off some steam?" 

It was all the warning Clint got before Steve took off at a slow jog, the Cor-mmandos yapping happily in his wake, their short legs pumping like mad to keep up with Steve's long stride. Dum Dum pulled Clint along for the surprise workout, which went on for about three miles before Steve even bothered to break his pace. The dogs were all panting heavily and had slowed down a lot, but they managed to bounce around Clint's feet, which he took as a sign that they still wanted him dead.

"I…I…I need coffee…" Clint whined as Steve walked the dogs around in the grass so they would do their business.

"You can't be winded by that." Steve looked at him in confusion. Clint was getting used to the expression.

"I'm good. Really. Just fucking coffee, okay FUCK!" Clint skipped up as Bucky tried to murder him again by making a lunge for his knees. Steve reached out and grabbed him, laughing, helping Clint get steady on his feet. Clint snarled but didn't think anything of it as they picked up the mess the dogs left behind them and started back to the tower. 

It became a nice ritual for the mornings, taking the dogs out for a long, slow jog that always left them exhausted and complacent for the rest of the day. Steve enjoyed it, the dogs were deliriously happy, and Donut actually got some peace and quiet once the Cor-mmandos all passed out in their dog beds. 

Clint's blissful ignorance lasted until the following week, when Tony all but threw his coffee mug at Clint's head and Natasha hissed "superhusbands?" at him in passing. Clint bee-lined for his tablet and googled "superhusbands clint barton hawkeye".

By that time, there were already 20 tumblrs and several facebook fanpages devoted to "AmeriHawk," the popular name of Clint's mad, passionate love affair with Captain America. Most of the evidence consisted of bystanders' photographs of Clint and Steve happily walking their "puppy family" together in the early mornings. There were dozens of pictures of varying quality showing Steve picking Clint up to untangle him from the leashes (which happened at least once a day), and photos of them buying each other coffee. One shot had Steve smiling dreamily at the dogs while Clint smirked, and if Clint had not known that they were talking about Pepper at the time even he would have thought they were dating.

Clint locked the dogs out of the bedroom for the rest of the afternoon and cuddled up with Donut, steadfastly not thinking about Phil.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a little early today because NAP. \o/

Pepper Potts was a beautiful, magnificent woman who only terrified Clint just a little less than Natasha did. She was also madly in love with the Cor-mmandos, despite Tony's displeasure, so Clint knew he should have expected what happened next. 

"No."

"Agent Barton, I understand your reluctance, but it would be great publicity for the Avengers." Pepper looked at him over her desk with the best puppy-dog eyes west of Steve Rogers. 

"I'm a _spy_ , a _super-secret_ assassin," Clint said, forcibly forgetting about all the "AmeriHawk" tumblrs.

She gave him a look of pure pity. "We've licensed your image to [Toys'R'Us for popcorn tins](http://scifigrl47.tumblr.com/post/38002101011/where-are-the-avengers-popcorn-tins-i-need-to-know)."

Clint glared at her but she just pushed the paperwork closer to him. 

" _Dog Fancy Magazine_? Really?" Clint sighed.

"The Cor-mmandos have their own fan club." She placed a pen on top of the contract. 

The cover shoot consisted of Clint and Steve posed with the Cor-mmandos around Stark's pool. Clint had spent less time in make-up and wardrobe the one time he went undercover as a transvestite, and he spent the other half of the shoot running around the pool yelling "Bucky! Stop!" which mostly made Steve look uncomfortable. The centerfold picture was of them sitting around a small outdoor table, both Steve and Stevie smiling at the camera like movie stars while Dum Dum blithely sat on Clint's feet and Bucky stood on the table as if he was on guard duty. Examining at himself, Clint thought he just looked constipated but Bruce swore it was a handsome, brooding expression. 

It was the most popular edition of the magazine ever, and went into eight print runs.

It came with an absurd level of pointless controversy, though. Dan Savage demanded that "AmeriHawk" come out about their affair, and Tony refused to talk to Steve for a week (not that anyone explained to Steve why, least of all Clint). Pepper put a dog groomer on the Stark payroll full time and never apologized for anything, not even when Dum Dum showed up one day with glittery red nail polish on his claws. Steve was incredibly pleased about the whole thing because part of his agreement to pose with the dogs was that the magazine would donate a portion of sales to the New York Humane Society. He also somehow remained blissfully ignorant of the whole "gay superhusbands" scandal (Clint suspected JARVIS had installed internet filters on Steve's tablet). 

The article had only mentioned Phil's name once, referring to him as "the Cor-mmandos' tragically deceased previous owner." 

Natasha at least had the grace to get Clint smashed-face drunk, and when Clint woke up with a hangover and Donut sprawled across his back, she walked the dogs with Steve the next morning. Clint took petty delight in the rumor mill that sprouted up when pictures of that hit the Internet.


	8. Chapter 8

What Clint had not been prepared for, because it wasn't something that he thought was even possible, was that the Cor-mmandos missed their captain. The more time Clint spent with them, though, the more he realized that they were grieving for Phil just as much as he was if not more. Clint doubted that they knew Phil was dead, but it was clear that they knew Phil was _not where he should be_ and that his absence was affecting them deeply.

They loved their morning walks and would work themselves into a frenzy over dinner (which Clint sympathized with, he usually felt the same way), and after a few days of sniffing around the suite of rooms mistrustfully had come to terms with their new home (again, Clint could relate). They adored Steve (who didn't, after all?) and Pepper and Bruce, and were very good at avoiding Natasha and Tony. But they were always looking around, staring mournfully at doors as if waiting for Phil to just walk through at any minute. Sometimes they would all pile up together on the floor at the foot of the bed and sigh heavily at each other until Donut could not take it anymore and made her zig-zag way to the top of her tallest cat tower in the living room, leaving Clint alone in the queen-sized bed thinking too much about why none of them were asleep.

It was not helping with Clint's own grief, at all. 

The whole first month after the Chitauri invasion, Clint had mandated therapy at SHIELD three times a week. He admitted to Natasha that he needed it, because after being mind-raped by Loki and then losing Phil, Clint was already at loose ends. He knew that he had been through worse in life, but he was having trouble moving on under the weight of grief and guilt he carried. 

He had no idea how to deal with three heart-broken corgis. He asked Steve to play with them in the afternoons, had Pepper escort them around for grooming and pampering, and asked JARVIS to play soothing nature sounds for them whenever Clint wasn't home. It all helped about as much as he expected it to, which was not much. In fact, the longer Phil failed to show up, the more depressed the dogs became. 

Despite Tony's explicit ban on the dogs being anywhere in the tower other than in Clint's suite, the Cor-mmandos had full run of the place. JARVIS made sure they didn't get near anything dangerous and kept the windows all locked tight, so Clint figured it was fairly safe. It was a lazy afternoon, with the Avengers on stand-down, Tony locked up in his lab, Steve and Natasha sparring, and Pepper Potts single-handedly running one of the largest and most successful businesses on the planet—just another day in Avengers Tower, Clint mused, nursing his beer and watching a soccer game on the large screen TV in the main common room. He was there because it was centralized, so he could keep at least one eye on the Cor-mmandos as they wandered from gym to kitchen to common room and rode the elevators at will (JARVIS spoiled them, and the dogs thought it was some kind of game to be dumped out on a floor of the tower and find their way back to where they started. It was a classic exercise for both brain and body, and reminded Clint of some of his SHIELD training. In truth, Clint thought JARVIS was the smartest person in the tower, AI or no).

Donut yawned, frowning up at him from her sling. "Yeah, girl, I know. Good day for a nap, huh?"

"Who are you talking to?" Bruce walked in, trailing dogs like a canine Pied Piper. They worshiped Bruce in a strange, eerie way, as if they were acolytes to his messiah. Whenever he was around, they all stared at him with dazed expressions and followed him quietly. The only one not creeped out by it was Bruce himself, so no one mentioned it. He stopped and peered at the sling.

"Is that a cat?"

"It's Clint's cat, Donut," Natasha said, walking in with her own beer in hand. 

Clint raised his bottle in salute. "Thought you were training with Steve."

She shrugged as she curled up in the corner of the couch. "He decided he needed to go rescue Tony from himself."

Bruce snorted. "Good luck to him."

Natasha looked thoughtful. "I think he's got Pepper's support," she said cryptically, and took a swig of her beer. 

Bruce nodded, although his expression clearly stated that he had no idea what she was talking about. He turned back to Clint. "Cute cat. Kind of looks like you."

Clint sighed. "I get that a lot."

"Hmm." Bruce gave Natasha a couple of shy, nervous looks before clearing his throat. "Okay, back to the lab for me." Bruce started walking out with the Cor-mmandos on his heels, but he turned around and pointed at them. "No. Stay." His voice was solid and firm. The dogs all sat down and watched Bruce leave with longing in their eyes.

"Do they see Banner, or the other guy?" Clint mused, watching them. After a couple of seconds the dogs got back up and padded around the room aimlessly. 

Natasha watched them with an intense expression. 

"What?"

"Phil played with the dogs, you know. They were always at his feet."

Clint looked over at the pack of corgis mulling around, pushing at each other with their noses and looking out the glass windows and generally not being anywhere near Clint.

"I walk them twice a day."

"You keep them at arm's length."

"They're Phil's." Clint settled into the couch mulishly, Donut squirming on his chest. 

Natasha sighed and took another swig of her beer, but did not say the obvious: Phil was dead. Whatever the corgis had been to Phil in the past, they were Clint's now. Or, he was theirs. He petted Donut, who yawned again but was picking up on his mood, her legs twitching irritably. 

Natasha put her beer down on an end table. "Let me hold the cat, while you do something with the dogs that isn't going for a walk or feeding them dinner." She held out her hands.

Clint glared at her. "The _cat_ has a name. And you've never wanted to hold her before."

Natasha kept her hands out. "You only brought her in on Fridays. I was working. Also, Donut is a terrible name for a cat."

"Your opinion doesn't count," Clint said, but pulled the grumpy little cat from her sling and passed her over to Natasha. Clint had never actually seen Natasha interact with a pet of any kind; she could ride a horse and had once worked with a trained monkey while undercover at a European circus (the irony of that mission still burned Clint, sometimes) but she always steered clear of the Cor-mmandos and had never shown any interest in Donut. 

She held Donut out from her with both hands while they looked at each other. Donut swished her tail and kicked her back legs, which must have sent some message to Natasha, who pulled her in and gently set Donut on her lap. 

Bereft, Clint eyed the Cor-mmandos. He got up and sat on the floor in the middle of the room, putting distance between himself and the girls. "Hey, Stevie. Come here, boy," Clint said, patting the floor next to him. He knew if he could bring Stevie to his side, Bucky and Dum Dum would follow. 

Stevie hopped around excitedly but circled Clint with a confused look in his eyes. 

"Stevie, come here. Good boy, come on." Clint held one hand out and kept patting the floor with the other. "Come here, and I'll pet you." 

Stevie stopped circling, moved a few feet closer and started pacing instead. He was jittery and nervous, clearly uncertain about the sudden change in behavior. After a few moments, Stevie stopped and crept forward, hunched down to the point where his belly almost touched the floor. Even Clint could tell it was a very submissive posture, so he firmed up his voice. " _Good_ boy, Stevie. Good boy. Come here."

Stevie finally nosed his way up to Clint, who slowly and gently started scratching him around his neck and ears. The dog lets out a pathetic little groan and flopped over, using his butt to squirm up next to Clint's legs, his paws flapping in the air. Clint smiled and started scratching with both hands. 

Bucky and Dum Dum walked over cautiously. Clint kept up a low-level, quiet dialogue of praise and encouragement until all three dogs were sprawled around him. There was still a feeling of wariness coming off of them, and Stevie kept looking over at the elevator as if expecting Phil to join them, but it was the closest they had come to Clint since the last time Phil had brought them into headquarters for Pet Friday. 

Clint could see Phil clearly in his mind's eye, that final Friday before they were both sent out to New Mexico to deal with the magical hammer from space: Phil, immaculate and sitting on the floor of his office while carefully gifting out milk bones to the Cor-mmandos, who all knew better than to walk on his suit. Clint had stood in the door way with Donut fast asleep in her sling, trying to catch Phil's attention but knowing it was a lost cause, and not caring too much because Phil looked downright adorable on the floor, spoiling his makeshift pack. Clint had walked over and sat down, one leg resting oh-so-casually against Phil's side. Dum Dum had jumped up and flopped down over his thighs, his tongue darting out to lick Phil's ear. Phil had laughed, that rarest of sounds, and Donut had actually started purring in reaction. It was a perfect moment, and it was their last perfect moment all together.

It wasn't until the dogs were all whining and trying to crawl into his lap that Clint realized he was crying. He wrapped his arms around them and let himself go, sobbing into their fur, hiding his face against whichever one was next to him at the moment. He cried for what he had lost and what he never had; whether the dogs understood that or not, Clint couldn't even think about. He let them comfort him, their warm and forgiving bodies surrounding him with everything he had left of Phil.

"Clint." Natasha's voice drifted over to him after a few minutes. He pushed Bucky and Stevie off his lap and wiped his face with his hands. 

"Yeah?"

"Heads up, I think you upset her."

Clint looked over to see Donut on the floor at Natasha's feet, pacing madly in a circle. She let out a couple of frustrated mews but kept going. Clint knew she would keep trying to go straight and failing until she fell down exhausted, stubborn and determined to get where she wanted to go. Clint moved to get up, but Stevie broke off and padded over to Donut, watching her for a second. 

"Hey, you—"

"Shut up, Clint. Let them figure this out," Natasha hissed at him. Nervously, Clint settled back down. 

Stevie, not a large dog in the great scheme of things, looked enormous looming over Donut. She was mewing in earnest, going faster and faster in her frustration. Stevie stepped closer and pushed at her with his nose, breaking her out of the circle. She took a few steps towards Clint, then started to drift to the side. Stevie nudged her back on course. They progressed across the room that way, Donut veering off course and Stevie nudging her back, herding her gently along until she hopped onto Clint's lap and head-butted his stomach. 

"Awww, dog. Thanks." Clint ruffled Stevie's head. 

Natasha sat down next to him, leaning into him for mutual support, her hand snaking to his lap to pet Donut. The dogs didn't crowd Natasha, but they settled down around them, protecting their family (from what, Clint wasn't sure).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you own a cat, then you know for a fact that "meowerled" is totally a word. Yep.
> 
> Also, you may note the absence of Thor here. Since this story occurs right after the end of the movie, I figured he'd still be in Asgard for a while. Who knows, if there is ever a sequel, we might have "Thor and the Mighty Cor-mmandos of Legend" ....hahahahaha

The Cor-mmandos took their role as Donut's honor guard very seriously. The day after Clint and Donut bonded with the dogs was, by Stark Decree, movie night at Avengers Tower (i.e. Wednesday) which had become a set in stone tradition in the whole two months everyone had been there. Clint had never taken Donut because he had been honestly worried about how she would react to Bruce (Hulk), and he had never taken the dogs because he knew exactly how Tony would react to them. Now that he knew Donut and Bruce could get along, he felt it was time to have her join the team as a full-fledged Avenger. 

Clint was adjusting the sling (the purple one, because _Avenger_ ) when he noticed the dogs gathered around the cat tower where Donut was sitting and frowning out at her domain.

"No, you can't go. Tony hates you guys, you know this." He reached out and plucked Donut up, tucking her into the sling. As he turned to leave, Donut meowerled and in standard troop formation the corgis took up position around Clint.

"No. No!" Clint scooted towards the door, trying not to step on anyone or trip and squash Donut, but the dogs simply scooted with him. "No! I'm not telling you again! No!"

##

"No, absolutely not!" Tony pointed at the dogs as they herded Clint out of the elevator. 

"Puppies! Oh my darlings!" Pepper cooed.

"Oh! You brought the puppies! I'll make more popcorn!" Steve spun around and headed back towards the kitchen. 

"Hey guys," Bruce waved at the dogs, and they dipped their heads, following the movement. Clint chose to believe that it was not weird or spooky. 

"I get the cat." Natasha stated flatly from her lounge chair. 

Clint flipped her off. "Maybe later." 

"No dogs! Am I talking to myself? No dogs!" Tony stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips like an angry nanny.

"They won't let me take Donut out by herself. It's a thing." Clint claimed his usual spot on one of the sofas next to Bruce. The Cor-mmandos took up position around his feet. 

"Tony, leave them alone. They were bathed yesterday and you aren't allergic." Pepper snapped, coming over to scratch Bucky's head. 

"Beasts," Tony mumbled, sitting on the smaller sofa he shared with Pepper. 

"You're just jealous because they get more attention than you do," Clint said, smirking at Tony, making a nod to where Pepper was on her knees at his feet to pet the dogs. 

Tony's eyes narrowed dangerously but just then Steve walked in carrying three large bowls of popcorn. He passed them around the room, throwing a handful of popcorn on the floor over the sound of Tony's squawks for the dogs to gobble up. How Steve knew that the dogs liked popcorn, Clint did not want to think about. 

Halfway through Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Donut squirmed her way out of the sling, walked carefully over Bruce's lap, and jumped down to head towards Natasha. Stevie was on the job in an instant, herding her carefully until she got to Natasha's feet. She stretched up and set her front paws on Natasha's knees and made to jump, although Clint knew she couldn't make it from that position. Before Natasha could lean forward, Stevie stuck his nose under Donut's butt and pushed her up.

"That is the most adorable thing I have ever seen in my life," Bruce said, awestruck, absently petting Dum Dum's head. Clint couldn't argue.

Apparently Natasha was an acceptable guard for Donut (as opposed to Clint, who wasn't jealous about that _at all_ , nope he was not) because the dogs broke up and started meandering around. Stevie courted Pepper, who ignored Tony's grumbling in order to give the corgi too much popcorn, confirming Clint's suspicions that she was the reason Stevie had put on two pounds. Dum Dum and Bucky just made the rounds, and ended up riding the elevator a few times.

"Where do they go?" Tony asked after the movie ended. 

"I have no idea. JARVIS supervises." Clint shrugged as Bucky lunged into his lap for petting, taking shameless advantage of the fact that Donut was curled up, upside down and sort-of-mewing happily, on Natasha.

"Traitor," Tony snarled, although there wasn't much heat in it.

"I thought it would be safest for all involved to keep them out of your laboratory, Sir," JARVIS intoned drily. Tony blanched and Pepper giggled. Steve looked up from feeding Dum Dum popcorn to gaze at her longingly. Clint was going to have to talk to the man about "subtle." 

"Wouldn't want Dummy or U to get any ideas," Bruce said, his eyes dancing with glee. 

Tony groaned. 

"Time for ESPN?" Steve asked hopefully. It was a fact that the whole Avengers crew, including Pepper, were sports fanatics, and they all usually ate ice cream and watched ESPN for desert after a long movie. 

JARVIS put the channel on as Bruce, Steve and Pepper got up to go serve the ice cream (Clint and Tony had been banished from doing so after just sticking spoons into cartons). But apparently Stevie did not like basketball and started barking at the screen. Donut squirmed into the space between Natasha and the armrest warily, while Bucky and Dum Dum paced nervously.

"Barton! Get your dog to shut up!" Tony yelled. 

"Stevie! C'mon, guy, be quiet. It's just TV." Clint walked over and tried to kneel down next to Stevie, but the corgi was genuinely annoyed at the bouncing ball on screen and skittered away, running in a circle around the whole room until he stopped to bark at the TV again. This repeated several times until Clint's temper had enough. "STEVIE! SIT!" 

There was a muffled thump from across the room. Clint looked over at the noise to see Captain America sitting on the floor with a bowl of ice cream in his hand and a look of surprise on his face. The spoon had clattered out of the bowl and was still spinning where it landed.

There was a very long moment of complete silence from the whole team before Tony doubled up and started howling with laughter. Within a few moments everyone was laughing, even Natasha, and Steve fell over, holding his sides as he gasped in between guffaws while Pepper cried herself to tears next to him. Bucky and Dum Dum herded Stevie away from the television back to where Donut was poking her head out from the lounge chair seat while the Avengers laughed themselves sick where they had fallen. When Steve got up, he bopped Clint on the head with his spoon.

Clint grinned up at him, still laughing. Things were good. He had a family, despite it being a patchwork of people and dogs and Donut. For the moment, it was enough.


	10. Chapter 10

Clint was finally 100% cleared for duty at the end of the third month after the Chitauri attack. New York had not quite recovered, and there were still memorials to the dead on street corners and in front of razed buildings, but on the whole most of the world had gone back to politics and reality TV shows. Being okayed for work as an Avenger meant that for Clint, nothing much changed. He was useless undercover, and the publicity departments (the Avengers had their own Stark-provided PR team, while SHIELD had two harried and overworked agents who knew they had no authority to do anything anyway) agreed that keeping either Clint or Natasha as assassins would come back and bite the team on the ass. The Avengers were the "good guys" and good guys, by definition, were not ruthless assassins. At least, not anymore. 

To break up their monotony of sitting around doing nothing (because in reality, the world only needed saving once or twice a month), Clint and Natasha volunteered for the much-loathed and generally avoided chore of asset training. It meant that Clint got to spend a lot of time at the firing range babysitting newly recruited agents and holding seminars on mission field tactics among other subjects. Natasha trained people on how to go deep undercover and one-on-one sparring. As ruthless as Natasha could be as a teacher, it was ironic that Clint was the one who quickly developed a reputation for breaking people. But his mantra was always "What would Phil Coulson do?" and that usually meant being an utterly ruthless bastard at stamping out incompetence. Clint did not really care what any of them thought of him anyway; he was an Avenger, he had the Cor-mmandos and Donut, and he lived in a high-rise tower with an endlessly, magically restocking pantry. 

It was even more ironic that his history of having staged the only successful commando raid on the helicarrier while compromised by Loki was viewed with awe and respect by most agents. Many were still mad about it and pointedly ignored him in the hallways at headquarters, but that did not stop anyone from believing that it made Agent Clint Barton the most badass of all SHIELD bad asses to ever have bad assed. Natasha pointedly commented that if that was all it took, she would have staged a coup years ago. Clint always fired back that at least she didn't get Phil killed, and that often ended with them bloody and drunk on vodka in the SHIELD training room where alcohol was expressly forbidden. Since no one was willing to get near them in that condition, it was often left to Captain America to come guilt them into sobriety with his disappointed hang-dog expression and polite censure. (Sometimes he brought Bruce along, which was even worse because Natasha's drunk flirting with him always made Clint cringe. For a woman trained in the art of seduction, she reverted to being 14 years old when it came to men she was actually interested in. Not that Clint could claim the high road there, given his complete failure to have ever made a pass at Phil.)

After a while, when things had settled into a routine, Clint decided it was time to reinstate Pet Friday. 

Clint had never really watched how people reacted to the Cor-mmandos. He had always been busy keeping his eyes on Phil, and so never understood just how popular the dogs were. From the time he walked through the lobby until he got to his office took nearly twenty minutes because people kept stopping him in order to pet the dogs and ask how they had been. Clint was beginning to understand why Phil did not keep them on leashes inside the building, because he would never have gotten anywhere on time. 

Unfortunately, Clint did not have the iron control over the Cor-mmandos that Phil had possessed, and so kept them on tight leashes. Not that they were too interested in going anywhere anyway, with Donut securely held next to Clint's chest in her sling. They kept looking up to make sure that Clint hadn't ditched her somewhere, and when Clint was at his desk, Bucky often stretched up with his front paws on Clint's leg to sniff carefully around Donut, as if checking for damage. Clint would have been insulted if it weren't so damn endearing, because honestly Clint felt the same way about the cat. Donut took it all in stride, although she smacked Dum Dum on the nose when he tried to lick her. Clint realized belatedly that he would need to set up a water bowl in his office, but on the whole, everything went smoothly the whole morning. 

Then Clint went to the ninth floor for his first training seminar of the day, and it all went to hell in a hand basket. 

The elevator door opened on Deputy Director Hill, who took one horrified look at the corgis and stepped backwards. It struck Clint as odd, given how much she had doted on them previously, but he had no time to dwell on that as the Cor-mmandos lunged for her, ripping their leashes out of his hand. He yelled, she yelled, Donut kind-of-hissed, and the dogs swarmed over Hill, jumping up to sniff all up and down her legs. She pushed them back, but after a moment she didn't need to because the dogs were off and running like the Devil was on their heels. 

Clint charged after them, shouting, holding Donut safely in her sling with one hand so she wouldn't bounce around too much. He heard Hill yelling at Fury through her comm, but that quickly faded out as he tore after the dogs who were hell bent to somewhere. 

A couple of agents tried to stop him, but Clint easily dispatched them one-handed, trying to keep up with the Cor-mmandos. They sped through main hallways, noses to the ground, until they veered off through a swinging door into the research division. Everyone stood to the side to let them pass, and a few even held open top-secret doorways for them out of habit. The agents then always tried to slam the doors shut on Clint but he wasn't going to be stopped. Those were _his_ dogs and damned if they got locked into some bizarre, dangerous lab just because he didn't have clearance to be there. 

Everything came to a screeching halt somewhere so deep inside SHIELD that Clint did not even know where they were. It looked like a hospital room, and the dogs were barking at the bed while a doctor with some hand-to-hand combat experience tried to haul Clint out. But Clint wasn't going without the dogs, so he slammed the guy's head into an expensive-looking machine and lunged for the leashes. He stood up, winded and angry and wrapping the leashes five times around his hand, to look right into the eyes of Phil Coulson.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah y'all gonna be hatin', but it will be a couple of days before the next update. The idea for this chapter sprang on me from left field and requires quite a re-write of the ending. Honestly, I thought this thing was mostly done, but…not so much? Sorry?

"Agent Barton, still the biggest pain in my ass on the payroll, I see," Fury said, strolling into the room. 

Clint had barely had time to register the fact that Phil Coulson, or his double, or _something_ , was alive and looking at him, before Fury showed up. Clint's brain snapped everything together: Hill's surprise at seeing the dogs, and the how she backed away from them; Fury's distinct lack of asking about the dogs, or even Clint for that matter, over the prior four months; Hill's call to Fury as soon as the dogs picked up Phil's scent and ran off with Clint behind them.

"You motherfucking asshole!" Clint stepped forward to throw a punch, but Donut let out an uncertain mew. Clint breathed in heavily through clinched teeth and took a moment to resettle her in the sling. The dogs were straining at their leashes in his other hand, their noses aimed at Phil's bed, but Clint kept them on just enough leash for their feet to touch the floor. "You're lucky I have Donut and the Cor-mmandos with me, Sir, because otherwise we'd be committing some property damage in the hallways right now. You self-righteous fucker," he added at the end because it needed to be said, since Fury had given Phil's eulogy at his funeral. 

Fury held up in hands in mock defeat. "Get it out of your system, Barton. Nothing I didn't expect to hear from you eventually."

"Eventually?" Clint snorted. It had been four months and Phil was obviously fully conscious and not-very-dead. 

Fury shrugged. "Eventually." 

Clint was rethinking the idea of beating Fury to the ground when Fury sighed and gave him what was a truly frightening expression of kindness.

"Look at him, Barton."

Clint turned around. Phil looked back at him. He was lucid and aware, tracking movement around the room and sometimes glancing at the dogs. But otherwise, his expression was completely lacking any recognition. 

"Phil?" 

Phil didn't react to his name, staring intently at the dogs for a few moments. 

Clint turned back to Fury. "What the fuck did you do to him?"

"Hallway." Fury turned and walked out. Clint had to literally drag the dogs out, which actually took a lot more full-body strength than he had expected. 

When he finally got to the point where one of the doctors could slam the door shut behind him, both he and the dogs were panting in frustration and worry. "Sorry guys, I'll get you back in there in a sec." They looked up at him mournfully. Clint looked at Fury.

"He was dead for nearly five minutes. We don't even know why he woke up, or how; and after that it was still touch and go for few days. He lapsed into a coma after the third operation and only woke up three weeks ago with full cognitive function but complete amnesia. We assumed brain damage at first, but the MRIs all come back base-line normal for him."

"You could have told me at any time, you bastard."

Fury ignored the epithet. "I could have. But his health was not—is not—our biggest worry." Fury crossed his arms and stopped there. 

Clint growled along with the dogs. "Care to elaborate, Sir?"

"Magic."

Clint cringed and both hands went to cover Donut protectively, pulling the dogs in closer as the movement yanked on their leashes. 

"We'd ask Thor, but he's been incommunicado. There's a specialist, Dr. Strange, who we brought in but all he can confirm is that whatever affects Agent Coulson stems from the tesseract. Which, need I remind you, isn't here either," Fury snapped. "We're throwing our best people at it. I figured it was better to wait to know what we were dealing with before telling you."

Clint adjusted Donut until she stopped whining, then let out the leashes to give the dogs some space. They paced nervously, practically braiding their leashes together, glancing at the door to Phil's treatment room every half-second. Fury let Clint fuss, standing still and glaring at him.

Clint took a deep breath and looked straight back at him. "You're a lying fuck, Sir."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"If you were throwing your best people at it, Banner and Stark would already be here. And I know they aren't, because Tony can keep secrets from anyone but the team, and Bruce is an easy read." Clint frowned, thinking, then pulled out his Starkfōne.

"Barton, put that phone away." 

Fury looked ready to tackle him, so instead of placing a call Clint punched in the emergency code that would send JAVIS his location and get the remaining Avengers assembled. "They're on their way. And if you try anything that hurts my cat, I will gut you myself." 

Nodding, Fury stepped back. Clint knew it was just a short reprieve, and that Fury was already 2/3 of the way to figuring out a new plan. Fury never retreated, he just came in from a different angle.

"You're going to complicate things for him, Barton," Fury said. 

"No, I'm complicating them for you. Because what I know, Sir, _what I know_ is that this isn't about Phil's health. This is about magic and the power behind it. You were holding him in an attempt to get at that; get the tesseract back, or just tap it, I don't know. Hell, I bet you don't know. But that's why you didn't call on Stark or Banner, because they would pitch a fit and then tell Captain America." Clint tucked the phone in the sling next to Donut, who started gnawing on a corner of it. He gave Fury a mocking salute. "Good try, though." 

"Always too smart for your own fucking good." Fury smiled approvingly at him, but Clint didn't trust that. 

"Damn straight. Now if you'll excuse me, my dogs are upset and want to see Phil again." He turned and opened the door, walking in around the triage going on for the doctor he had head-slammed earlier, and a nurse checking Phil's vitals who was very careful not to look at Clint. 

With their short legs, the dogs could not see up to the bed, so they formed a line down the free side, front paws on the bottom of the mattress and their noses poking up through the bed rail, straining to sniff and see the occupant. Phil looked at them curiously.

"Yours?"

Clint blinked at the question, taking in Phil's appearance fully for the first time. He was pale and skinny, his hair buzzed off and the skin around his eyes sunken and gray. His skin had the sallow complexion of the truly ill, and his lips were chapped. There was a nastrogastic intubation (and Clint hated the fact that he knew that particular piece of medical terminology far too intimately) line going up his nose, feeding him thick white muck from an IV bag hanging on a stand. But he looked interested, if tired, and waited patiently for Clint to answer.

"Yeah. I guess. No. Actually, no sir, they're yours."

Phil glanced at their curious noses. The dogs had not moved and Clint wondered just how long they planned to hold the pose…until their back legs gave out, he supposed.

The door opened behind them and Natasha walked through, dragging a person in a lab coat, her arm wrapped around his neck. The guy looked dazed but clung to Natasha's arm in order to keep up with her and not be strangled. She stopped and stared at Phil for one long, shocked moment.

"Hello?" Phil asked, his eyebrows raised.

Natasha pulled herself together and looked at Clint. "Can you believe I didn't have clearance to get here? I had to use this guy's biometrics."

"Well, that's annoying," Clint said, grinning.

Natasha nodded. "Very." She dropped her prisoner like a stone, and he stayed there, gagging for air. 

Fury appeared in the doorway, surveying the damage, but before he could say anything, the nurse gasped. 

"Incipient episode!" She yelled, hitting an alarm button on the machines. 

The room was awash with even more people and the dogs started barking furiously, but all Clint could see was the blue, blue light shining from Phil's eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little exposition, a little foreshadowing...ENJOY!

The room was filled with a smell like ozone, sour and sweet and electric, the perfume of flowers from an alien world. Clint knew it like he knew the scars on his hands. The blue in Phil's eyes did not light up the room but made him look even sicker, as if a blue fungus was eating him from the inside out. 

Clint stumbled, surprised at himself for losing his bearing, then realized it was because the dogs were at his feet, pushing him out of the room. Stevie was all but body-slamming his shins to get him to move while Bucky barked at Phil while walking—scooting, really—backwards. Clint could not stop staring at Phil's face, even as he made it to the hallway, because there was nothing but animosity and hatred there. Donut had gone from purring to rumbling in a growly way that Clint had never heard from her before.

Phil was glaring at him, hard and unforgiving, the blue threads shifting as he took in everything about Clint he could see. He focused on Donut, and Clint pulled the sling so it covered her completely as the dogs finally herded him clear of the room.

Natasha slammed the door shut behind her and walked up to Clint, cradling his face in her hands. "Clint? Talk to me."

"I'm here. I'm here." He nodded, his eyes on the closed door. 

An even louder alarm went off and there followed a huge row of commotion down the hall as Iron Man and Captain America stomped towards them. 

"Where's Bruce?" Natasha snapped while Clint wondered how the hell the two of them got there. 

The faceplate on Stark moved back. "Probably just coming up on the elevator. He didn't want me to carry him while I blew out half the wall on this floor, so he insisted on going through the front door." Stark shrugged as if that made no sense to him. 

Natasha patted Clint's arm and then sprinted off to clear the way for Banner. 

Steve stepped forward, his mere presence with his uniform and shield and attitude taking up most of the hallway. "What's happened?"

"Barton, as usual, stuck his damn nose into a blender," Fury snapped, trying to push past Iron Man. 

"Fuck you, Sir," Clint hissed, both hands wrapped around Donut and trying not to have a complete PTSD meltdown. He was mostly pissed that it meant months of therapy had just been washed down the drain. 

"You put out the emergency call, Hawkeye. Report." Steve stood and stared at him, and the formality of it calmed Clint down. Steve only called him Hawkeye in the field, on a mission, and thinking about it that way let Clint get some air in his lungs.

"Through that door, Captain." He tightened his hold on the leashes, although with the dogs huddled around his feet he wasn't sure it was necessary. "I think it'll be pretty clear."

Steve gave him a confused look but turned and opened the door, holding up his shield as a precaution.

"Fuck me sideways," Stark hissed, the face plate slamming back down.

Steve let the shield drop, then turned to Fury. "Give me one good reason not to throw you out of the hole Stark made in the building just now."

"Close the fucking door and I'll explain," Fury snapped. 

Steve took another look into where Phil was sitting on the bed, rigid and seething, glaring daggers at Clint, then closed the door. 

"He's going to lie," Clint warned.

"No kidding," Stark said, allowing the face plate to retract again. "Tell us something we don't know."

"Agent Barton will call me on my shit, as he's been doing that now for the last fifteen minutes. Do you find that acceptable?" Fury crossed his arms, daring Steve to challenge him. 

"Wait until Banner gets here," Steve started before being interrupted by the door to Phil's room opening and a doctor walking out. Clint saw Phil, before the door swung shut again, his eyes bright blue and scouring everything they saw. Clint remembered vividly how that felt, to be looking at the world through a haze of magic that made his mind pliable but put his surroundings into high relief. Clint had never _seen_ better in his life, and he was a world record holder with the best human eyesight ever measured. But that was all about the ability to focus, while the magic was about the ability to absorb and be absorbed. 

Phil was completely absorbed by the power that was driving him, and the memory of that sensation made Clint's hands shake.

Donut understood something, because she was curled up against him, purring loudly. Clint thought the feeling of her little purr-engine in his hands was enough to make him cry, but instead he kept taking large gulps of air. The Cor-mmandos paced around him nervously.

"Clint." Captain America's solid, confident voice broke through Clint's wild thoughts.

"Yeah."

"Agent, I need your status," the Captain said, his tone brooking no argument. 

"Trying to hold it together." Clint clutched at Donut, trying not to squish her. He forcibly softened his fingers and started stroking her fur. 

"Understood. Can you stand?"

Clint looked up at him and realized for the first time that he had slid down the wall to the floor. Dum Dum was strewn over his feet like a corgi sacrifice, holding him down. "Dog, move. Move." Clint kicked a little and Dum Dum bounced up. Stevie barked at him and Bucky circled them a few times then ran up and down the hallway doing recon, before shooting back to nose at Stevie and Dum Dum again. 

Steve grabbed Clint's arm, helping him up. He gave Clint a tired grin. "What a mess."

"A huge big fucking mess, yes sir." Clint nodded, petting Donut like a Bond villain. Steve reached out and rubbed a huge, gloved finger over her head. She squinted her eyes closed and purred even harder.

"How's our girl?"

"Holding me together, to be honest."

Bruce showed up, shadowing Natasha, who was looking murderous enough that everyone instinctively backed away as she passed. 

"Natasha explained," Bruce said simply. He stopped next to Clint and leaned in to scratch Donut's chin, peering at the door to Phil's room. 

Steve turned to Fury. "Okay. Now we're assembled. Explain."

Fury nodded and gave them the same story he had given Clint, and Clint responded by telling them his own conclusions. 

Steve bounced his shield on his arm, which he tended to do when he was thinking. He had pushed the cowl back but that was apparently as relaxed as he intended to get. "Stark, you and Banner get in there and figure out what we need to do about Agent Coulson moved out of here."

"Now wait a minute—" Fury stepped up to Steve. 

"You lied, and then you kept lying. That is a good man in there who deserves more than to be an experiment locked in the basement. So back off, Director. We'll talk about this later," Steve snapped, his temper finally showing through. The ninth floor was hardly the basement, but no one was going to call Steve on it right then. Clint knew he wasn't looking like much of a challenge, but Natasha stood next to Steve with a look of pure venom and both Bruce and Tony looked ready to pounce. Fury looked at Steve for a long moment, then moved forward, sailing past them and heading out of the ward without another word.

Steve gestured at Tony and Bruce with the field hand signal to "move forward." They nodded and walked into Phil's room, closing the door behind them. Clint leaned back against the wall again and started petting Donut again. Natasha settled up against him, leaning on him a little. 

Steve turned to Clint. "You want to leave now? Go back to the tower; we'll let you know when we're on the way."

"No sir, I'll stay for the transport. I don't think I could drag the dogs out of here anyway." Clint shrugged. He, Steve and Natasha stood quietly in the hallway, SHIELD agents far down from them keeping an eye on things for Fury but otherwise staying clear. 

Tony bounced out of Phil's room, his suit packed away for the moment and his manic energy from the excitement of finding Phil spilling over everything as he explained to Steve their plan for moving him to a medical ward at the tower. Bucky bounced around Tony's heels and Stevie started barking again. Clint tugged on the leashes to drag them back before Tony got bitchy again.

"The dogs! I completely forgot!"

Clint glared at him, but Tony was looking down at Bucky. He tapped his ear comm. "JARVIS, let the med transport guys know we've got three dogs and their sitter to take along for the ride. And a cat. I'll pay whatever premiums, and extra to have the vehicle vacuumed cleaned, whatever. Just do it." 

Clint looked at him. "Thanks."

Tony grinned at him. "Can't have our little heroes left behind!" He reached down and awkwardly patted Bucky on his head, then marched back in to help Bruce with something. 

"It's pretty obvious he was never raised around actual, living animals," Steve sighed. 

"Or living humans, from what I can tell," Clint agreed. 

Steve snorted. "He said it should be about 20 minutes, and we'll all roll out of here together. You've got the dogs okay?" 

Clint wrapped the leashes around his hand again, and petted Donut, who had purred herself into sleepy oblivion and was snoring with her mouth open. "I got it. Let's just get Phil home."


	13. Chapter 13

Clint let Natasha push him back and away from Phil's room when the Great Migration began. Bruce and Tony had figured out which machines absolutely needed to come along for the ride and which didn't, but it still required them, Steve, and three SHIELD medical staff to wheel the bed and equipment out of the room and down towards the service elevator, which was just barely large enough to hold all of them. 

The dogs were wary and held back, lined up as a barrier between Clint and Phil. By the time Clint, Natasha and the dogs followed down to the parking garage a few minutes later, Phil's bed had been rolled onto a medical transport truck and Tony was fussing about where the equipment could and could not go. The SHIELD personnel scattered and the transport staff – a driver and a nurse – were looking a little overwhelmed by everything. 

Tony waved him over. "He's still blue. You sure you and the puppies want to ride along?" Tony asked, frowning at the truck. It was the first time Tony had ever used the term "puppies" and Clint almost said something, but a stern glance from Natasha held him back. 

"Is he restrained?" Clint cringed because it hurt to ask, but he knew enough to know better than to think things would go well if a tesseract-possessed Phil decided to break out. He also had Donut and the Cor-mmandos to think about.

Steve nodded. "Yes. He hasn't made a move and Bruce says nothing in his medical records suggest he'll turn violent, but I felt it was safer. At least until we get him settled at the tower."

"I can ride along," Natasha offered.

"No, I'm going," Bruce said, stepping down out of the back of the truck. Everyone looked at him. "It would take a lot to bring the Other Guy out in this situation, and if something medical goes wrong I'm the closest you've got to a physician. Even if he goes into complete organ failure the nurse and I can probably keep him alive until we get to a hospital ER. And there is only so much room in here," he waved at the truck. "The driver and the nurse upfront, with Phil, me, Clint and three dogs in the back is going to be tight."

Tony snorted. "It's also only a twenty minute drive. This isn't an epic road trip. Let's just get it over with."

"Let's go." Steve spoke with his command voice, and Clint realized that they really had become a team over the last four months because everyone, including Natasha, jumped into action. 

She held up a set of keys, looking at Steve. "You and Stark can ride with me." 

Tony attempted to escape that fate (Clint couldn't blame him, because Russian drivers were all crazy and Natasha was true to type) but Steve picked up his suit-case and grabbed Tony by the scruff of his collar, literally hauling him away like a puppy. Clint manfully tried not to snicker. 

Bruce got in first and settled on a fold down set by the head of Phil's bed. Phil was resting at a slightly inclined position, his blue eyes wide and unblinking as he looked around, taking everything in. 

There was a bench seat near the back and across from the bed, so once Clint lifted up all the dogs to the floor of the transport he stepped up and closed the door behind him. He sat down on the bench and waited. 

The driver rolled out easily, following Natasha, although Clint was sure the guy knew where Avengers Tower was located because who didn't? Tearing his eyes away from the sliver of front window he could see, Clint looked at Phil.

Who was looking panicked, staring at Clint and pulling at his wrist restraints, the blue veins in his eyes roiling.

"Doc…" Clint warned. Bruce snapped up from the tablet he was reading to look at Phil. 

"I don't know," Bruce answered, scanning the machines tucked in around the bed and monitors built into the truck. "His heart rate is up, though; according to reports, that's unusual for when he's in this state." 

The dogs were all packed together near Clint's feet but had stood up. Phil was still a foot over their heads but they stared at his bed. Donut was grumbling, pawing at her sling and Clint tried to wrap it over her again. "Just stay there, baby, just stay there, okay?" Clint rubbed her but she growled at him and started thrashing. "Hey! HEY! Stop! Ow, fuck!" Clint yanked back his hand when she clawed it, drawing blood. 

"Pull over! Pull OVER!" Bruce yelled at the driver, standing up to put his hand on Phil's chest to hold the increasingly frantic man down. Phil yanked one hand so hard the restraint snapped loose from the bed frame and he slammed his fist into Bruce's face. 

"Get out!" Clint yelled, scrambling to hold onto Donut as Bruce's skin rippled with green. The driver and the nurse were already bailing, and Bruce clumsily turned to crawl out the front.

"Hey! What's going—shit, Cap! Help me pull Hulk out!" Tony was in the suit, grabbing at Bruce's quickly growing arms and yanking. Clint only saw a blur of blue uniform as Steve reached past Tony, grabbed Bruce's hair and _pulled_. Bruce zipped out of the truck as fast as Steve could move. 

Leaving Clint trapped in the back with Phil.

He turned to reach for the back door but Donut finally spilled out of her sling while he was distracted. Clint went to grab her but she bounced off his knees onto Dum Dum's back and then launched herself at the bed. She barely made it and hung in the air for a second, her weak back legs kicking frantically until Stevie head-butted her up and over the railing. 

Phil kicked at her. 

"No!" Clint shouted, his voice breaking in desperation, but the dogs were in his way. The back door finally swung open and Natasha leapt up. She went to move forward but Stevie turned on her, growling. Dum Dum and Bucky started barking at them, teeth bared. 

"Oh shit," Clint said, pressing himself up against the wall. Never in a million years would Clint have thought that corgis could be threatening, but right then they looked like short, stocky Hell Hounds. Natasha froze, knowing that even her amazing skills at hand-to-hand combat would be pretty futile against a pack of crazed dogs. 

"Is Phil controlling them?" 

"I don't know! Do I look like I know? Fuck, DONUT!" 

On the bed, Phil was pulling at his other restraint with his free hand, randomly kicking at Donut as she dashed back and forth up the bed in her usual zig zag pattern, somehow avoiding being punted off. 

"Wait, wait!" Natasha grabbed Clint's arm to hold him in place. The dogs were still frenzied but they calmed a little when they saw that neither Clint nor Natasha was trying to move. 

"What? He'll kill her!" 

"No." Natasha's voice was firm and certain, her eyes locked on the bed. Clint looked over.

Phil had stopped trying to free his hand and was pressed against the mattress, as if he could push his way out of it backwards, while Donut slowly walked up his chest. He looked furious and terrified, emotions that tangled his face into a horrible contortion that barely even looked like Phil Coulson at all. Donut finally made it to the top of his chest, where she wobbled precariously, then scooted her back legs up so she was hunched over. Reaching out with one front paw, she uncertainly put it on Phil's jaw, and his mouth opened instinctively. Phil's hands were fisted in the sheet covering him, the knuckles white and the tendons of his arms standing out. 

Donut poked her head up to his, her eyes squinting closed as she sniffed around his mouth, her shaky paw holding him in place. Phil paused, his mouth open and his blue eyes burning with fury, as she kept sniffing until he could not hold his breath any longer. He breathed out, his breath white hot and blue with magic that spiraled through the air and straight into Donut.

"No," Clint whispered, shaking. Natasha's grip tightened on his arm. 

Donut rolled backwards, the magic twirling around her like lightening sparks, and let out a horrific yowl that filled up the entire truck. It went on and on as she thrashed on the bed, screeching with the most unearthly noise Clint had ever heard, blue energy swirling around and through her like a storm. The dogs turned to watch, their ears pricked up, but they didn't move. 

Then it was quiet, the kind of lethal quiet that Clint always associated with murder and evil. No one moved. Donut was absolutely motionless on her back and the dogs stood still by the bed. 

"Donut." Clint felt tears in his eyes, and he didn't care, but he was frozen where he was, unable to accept what had happened. 

Then Donut rolled over and almost fell off the bed. Dum Dum launched up and nosed her back. Blinking, she batted at him and then looked at Clint, her pretty green eyes clear and annoyed, just like always. Clint ripped himself free of Natasha and launched himself at Donut, crying as he picked her up and held her close to his chest. She purred and started kneading his shirt.

"Phil?" 

Clint looked up at Natasha's voice. She was looking stunned herself, staring at Phil. Blinking to clear his eyes, Clint slowly looked over at him.

"I thought I was dead," Phil said, confused, but clear-eyed and sober. "Instead I feel like Hell and I'm in a truck with my dogs?" He touched his face. "I hate nasogastric intubation. Agent Romanov, report." He sounded mostly annoyed, and looked annoyed, and Clint started laughing so hard he flopped down to the floor of the truck, where the worried dogs licked his face. 

"That is so disgusting. Really. Dog germs. Yuck." Tony was looking at him through the door, still suited up with the face plate retracted. Before Clint could throw a dog at his face, there was a loud thunderous boom behind him and a rush of wind strong enough to make Tony stagger and reach for the truck for support. 

"SON OF COUL! MY DEAR FRIEND, I SEE A NATIVE WITCH HAS RELEASED YOUR CURSE! I AM PLEASED!" Thor grinned over Tony's shoulder, looking thrilled and a little travel weary. Clint wrapped an arm around Stevie, Donut still cradled to his chest, and laughed until he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because cats _are_ magic.


	14. Chapter 14

Clint did not remember being dragged out of the back of the van very clearly, only that strong blue-clad arms had wrapped around him and pulled, carrying him like a child over to Natasha's car. The corgis were there, excited and confused by Iron Man holding their leashes awkwardly. Clint collapsed in the front seat while Tony and Steve negotiated with the Cor-mmandos to get them into the back seat. Then Natasha slammed into the driver's seat and floored it, and Clint wondered where she had gotten the portable police siren that was mysteriously stuck on the roof of the car. 

"Donut saved him," Clint said, feeling drunk on adrenaline and shock. His internal clock told him that it had been no more than an hour from the time they had first discovered Phil, and the whip lash of emotions were still roiling in his blood.

Natasha just nodded, her expression grim. Clint reached out and put his hand gently on her thigh.

"I'm fine, Nat." 

"You're one good cry away from a complete break with reality," she snapped. 

"I mean aside from that."

She cracked a small smile, glancing over at him. 

"I missed that last part, I guess Tony and Steve are arranging to get Phil to the tower?"

"Fury showed up and argued with them about it, since Phil got his memory back, but Thor put his hammer through the engine block of Fury's SUV when he found out what had been going on."

"Guess he's still touchy about the tesseract, huh?" Clint wanted to ask if Thor had mentioned Loki, but he knew that Natasha would be all over him for that. 

"A little," Natasha said with her small smile peeking out again. "And he considers Coulson a friend, so that didn't help Fury's argument."

Neither one of them mentioned that Thor had been the only one there when Loki had killed Phil. Or not-killed him, or whatever they were calling it now. It hurt Clint's brain to try and figure that out. He settled back and petted Donut, who was completely passed out in her sling, one paw twitching a little. After a moment, he pulled out his phone. Natasha gave him a curious look but didn't ask. 

"Hey, Mr. Delany?"

"Mr. Barton! So glad to hear from you. Sorry day when you moved out. How is our girl? And those boys of yours! I saw the magazine spread, those handsome devils. And your boyfriend, is it? That tall blond?" Delany coughed. "Quite the catch, there, son. I tell you, if I were 20 years younger—"

"I need you to check on Donut," Clint broke in. 

"What's wrong?" Delany's voice went sharp and professional in a heartbeat.

"Uh, nothing. I don't think. She just went through something…actually I don't think you have clearance for me to explain this."

"Clearance? Like, security clearance? Is she the President's cat now or something?" 

"No, nothing like that. I'm, uh, military, actually. Not a private body guard. And I tend to be on, uh, the front lines a lot. Like, just now. With Donut."

Even Natasha cringed a little at that utterly lame explanation, but Clint just waved a hand at her to shut up. 

Delany hummed for a second. "Did you get our baby hurt, boy?"

"No sir, no I did not. I don't think. Could we just send a car for you? Please?"

"I'll have my bag and be outside in fifteen minutes. Just send a cab."

"Yes sir." Clint hung up and touched the icon for JARVIS. It was easy to get a Stark town car sent to pick up Mr. Delany, and when that was done Clint collapsed against the seat again. Dum Dum promptly stuck his nose into Clint's ear from the backseat. "Hey! Stop it!" Clint shoved him back. "I'll be so glad when I can dump you back on Phil!" 

"Will you?"

Clint turned to look at Natasha. "What?"

"Will you really be glad to give the Cor-mmandos back to Phil?"

Clint's stomach dropped. He had not really thought about what that meant, or how he would feel about giving up the dogs. He tried to shrug nonchalantly. "They're his dogs."

Natasha twitched her shoulders. "They used to be."

"He's alive, and they are his dogs. He gets them back."

"Of course he does. I'm just asking if you really are going to be glad about that." 

Clint pushed Stevie back, who had tried to sneak up and sniff Donut. He looked at the three mis-matched corgis in the back, lined up and looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to take them back to Phil or maybe dole out liver snacks--it wasn't like Clint had ever really figured them out. Clint had come to grips with the fact that he would never have the connection to them that they shared with Phil, but over the past nearly five months they had become part of his life…part of his family. And as important as Phil was to Clint, they were not family. At best they were friends, something that Phil had worked hard to make clear over the years, and Clint appreciated that even if it broke his heart a little. Or, a lot. 

Natasha's hand joined his in petting Donut. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Yeah." Clint looked down at Donut again. She was still snoring and was completely dead to the world. Clint continued rubbing her belly as the siren wailed overhead and Natasha aimed for Avengers Tower like a missile. Clint figured the only reason she wasn't jumping curbs and clearing sidewalks was out of concern for Donut. He reminded himself to thank her for that sometime…if she managed to get them to the tower without flipping the car.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JFC I know this is a long time coming, and I'm sorry. RL intervened in the form of writer's block across all categories, fanfic and my original stuff too. That might be apparent in the quality of this chapter, but it's what happens next and so there is that. Right? *slumps*
> 
> Definitely not as a long a break until the next update; I expect to have the next chapter posted sometime this week. Thanks for hanging in. Love you ALLLLLLL!!! <3

Natasha saw Clint up to his suite but then left quickly. Clint knew she was going to meet up with the "Phil Coulson Entourage" so he didn't mind, and the corgis went hyperactive once they were back in familiar territory. Clint debated tucking Donut into one of her high perch beds but she was still snoring, so he kept her in her sling. She seemed impervious to the ruckus of the Cor-mmandos.

"Agent Barton, Doctor Delany is here. Security assisted him in getting to the correct elevator from the lobby, and he is arriving on your floor in three seconds." JARVIS spoke loudly over the yipping and barking.

"Great. I'll meet him." Clint dodged the dogs out of his "front door", which opened into a small foyer. He shared the floor with Natasha, who had her own suite opposite his, so their foyer was where the elevator opened. 

Delany walked out, looking dazed. "You doing private security for Mr. Stark, now?" He asked, blinking at the marble and brass and Kandinsky of the overly-ritzy foyer. 

"You don't watch much television, do you Mr. Delany?" Clint gently guided him to his suite.

"No cause to. It's mostly junk since _Matlock_ went off the air. NPR has everything I need—Oh! Look at these healthy boys!" He exclaimed as they walked in to the riot gone wild of the Cor-mmandos in full panic. 

They circled Delany a few times then crowded around his legs as he reached down to pet them. 

"So sad about their former owner. I read that article, I don't buy _Dog Fancy_ just for the pictures, you know." Delany spoke directly at Stevie, who cocked his head. 

"Well, about that—" Clint cringed.

"Hey! Where's our girl?" Delany turned towards him, frowning. 

Clint pointed at the sling on his chest. Delany shuffled over and peeked into it. 

"Clever set up." He reached in and pulled her out. She grumbled and kicked at him as he walked towards the kitchen. The place was more like an outrageously large loft apartment, and beat the pants off the smaller rooms Clint had lived in during renovations. The kitchen counter was a huge raft of marble or something like it, running half the length of the whole place. Delany set Donut down on it and she started prancing. 

"It's cold, wait, I have one of her towels." Clint ran for her supplies and came back with her second favorite sleeping quilt, laying it over the cold counter-top while Delany held her up. The dogs chased him and got in his way, but quickly backed off when Delany clapped at them. Clint wondered if everyone in the universe was higher on the pecking order than he was.

"She looks tired, but not underweight. Still our strong little pastry! What happened?" Delany opened his bag and started his examination. 

Clint frowned, trying to figure out a safe, non-classified way of saying that Phil had been stabbed to death by a demi-god, survived, possessed by magic, and then exorcised by Donut. 

"Son?" Delany looked at him, concerned.

"I'm sorry, sir, I really can't explain it. Just check her for anything…weird."

"You mean, like worms?"

"Sure."

Clint stepped away to put some food down for the Cor-mmandos in hopes it would distract them. It did, for about five seconds. Then they were swarming again, trying to trip and kill him as usual. 

"Those boys sure do love you. It's easy to see you all are a tight-knit family now. Warms an old man's heart."

"Love me? They are trying to kill me! They are always trying to kill me! They trip me up all the time! I nearly broke my nose yesterday just trying to go use the bathroom!"

Delany and Donut stared at him.

"I mean it! They hate me! They hate me because I'm not Phil, and I haven't been able to give Phil back to them, and now that I can they are mad because they are still stuck with me! I can't wait to unload them!" Clint waved his arms around then groaned, leaning against the fridge and covering his face with his hands. He grunted when Dum Dum flopped down on top of his feet. 

Delany gentled Donut and packed a few of his things away. "Something you need to talk about, son? Because those dogs love you, and I can't see you giving them up for anything."

Clint groaned again. 

There was a loud commotion outside of Clint's flat. The corgis paused for one dramatic moment, then burst like fluffy mini-rockets toward the door, barking madly. 

The door flew open and Phil staggered in, trailing his IV stand. Pepper came in behind him looking shocked and annoyed (Clint recognized the expression), followed en masse by Natasha (pissed off), Steve (confused), Bruce (amused), Tony (distracted) and Thor (also confused). 

The dogs went bonkers, and it took the best that the Avengers could dish out to keep them from toppling Phil over as he angled for the sofa. Natasha was using some non-lethal jujitsu on Bucky to hold him back while Steve picked up Stevie and held him like a football, Stevie's short legs pumping madly in the air as he strained towards Phil

"What adorable beasts!" Thor picked up Dum Dum and held him high in the air. "Do they fly?"

"NO!" Steve, Phil and Clint shouted at once. 

Thor looked abashed as he put down the corgi. "They should." 

Clint was nowhere near stable enough to parse out why Thor thought dogs should fly, because he was pretty sure he was one deep breath away from hysteria. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked at Delany, who was confused but handed Donut over to him. Clint clutched at her like the life line she was.

"Who is he?" Delany asked, motioning over at the chaotic tumble of hysterical dogs trying to climb all over Phil while Pepper et al pushed them down (and Tony stood against the wall, holding his tablet defensively). 

"Their owner. Their original owner, the guy we thought was dead," Clint said, looking down at Donut who looked back up at him. He thought she looked a little annoyed, but it was honestly hard to tell. 

"Ah. Your little outburst makes more sense then." Delany nodded.

"How's our girl?" Steve came up and started rubbing Donut's head.

"That's always the first thing you ask me." 

"Lately it seems to be the most important thing to ask." Steve shrugged. He turned to Delany and stuck out his hand. "Hi. I'm—"

"I saw that photo spread of you! Very, ah, very handsome. I mean the dogs. All of you, such handsome boys. Not that you're a boy, of course, I mean—"

Clint rolled his eyes as the elderly man turned into a babbling teenager right before his eyes. 

Steve shook Delany's hand, his smile charming and practiced. "Thank you."

Delany didn't let go. "Doctor Ted Delany! Did anyone ever tell you that you look a lot like Captain America?"

Steve just blinked at the guy while they continued to shake hands. Delany rolled on, and Clint debated using Donut's sling as a make-shift gag.

"It's such a pleasure to meet Mr. Barton's young man! I must say you two make a very, ah, handsome couple!" Delany blushed. 

"His…young man?" Steve's brow furrowed and he looked at Clint.

"Did the dogs bring you together? That's so romantic," Delany continued, his eyes going misty. 

"Romantic?" Steve's expression turned towards horrified. "What?"

"What?" Phil's voice broke in. Everyone stopped and turned towards Clint, even Tony giving him a speculative look. Phil, still weak and pale, was actually _glaring_ and Clint just gave up. 

"Everyone assumes we're dating, Cap." Clint threw it out, his life just complicated and fucked up enough that he was past caring. 

Steve paused for a moment. "Everyone?"

"Yes. We have a nickname. Remember Bruce explaining 'Brangelina' to you?"

Steve nodded, his hand still held in Delany's locked grip. 

"We're 'AmeriHawk' and apparently we are madly in love."

"AmeriHawk?" Delany said, finally releasing Steve's hand. "I've heard that. On NPR, they did a show about the Avengers…" Delany's voice trailed off as the blood drained from his face. "Oh my God." He looked back at Steve. "You really are Captain America!"

"You didn't actually read the _whole_ article in _Dog Fancy_ , did you, Mr. Delany?" Clint sighed, rubbing his face. Delany opened his mouth to defend himself.

"AmeriHawk?" Phil said, his voice oddly blank. The dogs had been reduced to whimpering and fighting for his lap. 

Natasha gave Clint the piecing look of _fix this mess you made and fix it now!_ but he wasn't sure what needed to be done. 

"Why is everyone here?" He asked instead, because that at least seemed pertinent. 

"Agent wanted to see his dogs, and Pepper isn't letting him out of her sight, which makes me wonder just when they became BFFs because she doesn't get this territorial when _I'm_ laid up with—"

"It just sort of happened when Agent Coulson decided to detour from his medical suite." Bruce answered, talking easily over Tony as only he could do. 

Phil snapped his fingers and the dogs all immediately got down and a sat at his feet. "I'm glad you've taken such good care of them." His voice was formal and brusque. The Cor-mmandos began wagging their tails uncertainly. Phil went to stand up but barely made it, Natasha gently leaping over the back of the couch to get in behind him for leverage. 

"You are still unwell, my friend. A spell as powerful as that drains soul and body. Your fearless witch lifted the curse but you will need recovery time." Thor stepped in to steady Phil with his broad hands.

"My cat is not a witch!" Clint looked at Delany, who shrugged.

"If you're talking about animal lore—"

"Why should this upset you?" Thor looked at Donut. "The magic that twisted her body has made her immeasurably stronger than many of her kind. You are her familiar, are you not? Together you are the strength you each lack individually. I do not understand your displeasure." He tilted his head. "Although she is quite tiny."

"Excuse me, but I am very tired," Phil spoke up, pulling everyone's attention back on him, and Clint was grateful for that because he was very much over everyone staring at Donut like she was freak. Phil looked at him. "Please continue caring for my dogs, if you would, Barton. I'm sure you and…and Captain Rogers will do a good job until I'm well enough to take them back." 

Clint opened his mouth to say something, but Phil wavered and Thor simply picked him up in a bridal carry. Phil didn't even complain, just folded his arms over his chest and pursed his lips, which said a lot about how exhausted he really was.

"Lead me to your healer's rooms, where I may lay the Son of Coul down for his rest." Thor spoke to Pepper, who nodded and headed for the door, grabbing Tony as she went.

Clint still had his mouth open to say something, anything, as everyone suddenly bustled out in a rush to get Phil to medical. Steve managed to push the Cor-mmandos back enough that he closed the door on them with an apologetic look. The dogs flopped down with their noses touching the door, the picture of despair.

Delany turned to Clint, his eyes wide with awe. "That really was Captain America, wasn't it?"

Clint nodded. In his arms, Donut drifted off to sleep again, kicking her back leg out.


	16. Chapter 16

The Cor-mmandos were down for the count, sprawled out by the front door waiting for Phil to return. Since he had already returned once, the dogs obviously figured it was just a matter of time. Clint suspected they would stay _right there_ until they died of dehydration or something, which would really get Phil pissed off at him, so he put their water bowls by the door just in case. 

Exhausted from the emotional whiplash of the day, and figuring he wasn't needed anywhere anyway, Clint went to bed. It was only about three in the afternoon, but he thought a nap was not an unreasonable demand. Phil was taken care of, the dogs were immobilized by longing, and Donut was sound asleep again. After Delany left on the promise that Clint would absolutely get Captain America to sign a copy of the _Dog Fancy_ centerfold (Delany actually made him cross his heart), Clint dumped Donut on the middle of his bed, wrapped her in her favorite quilt, and then fell down next to her. 

He woke up three hours later to the sound of the Cor-mmandos whimpering to go out. He texted Steve and they took the dogs for their usual walk, Steve explaining that doing something perfectly normal and on schedule might help with their moods. 

Clint didn't care, because he was on a countdown to losing them anyway. 

Steve nattered on until he noticed a couple taking a picture of them and the dogs. "Oh. Is that why?"

Clint gave the fans a tired smile and nodded. "Yeah. People post photos of us walking the dogs on the Internet, and claim that means we're dating. Also, that time you shielded me from that laser-guy's weapon." 

Steve "hmmmm'd" thoughtfully. "I could see how that particular battle position could look compromising."

"Like you would not believe." Clint nodded, remembering the strength of Steve's thighs, which had been pretty impressive from his perspective of the whole fiasco. He gave Steve a side-long glance. "You don’t seem too upset by the rumors."

"They aren't true, for one thing. And I'm used to gossip; when I was with the USO, the publicity guys kept cooking up romances with me and the chorus girls. It was embarrassing but everyone knew it wasn't true, so it was hard to care. Anyway, I'm, uh, taken." He finally blushed.

Clint frowned. "By who?"

"It, uh, well, they…it's complicated?"

"No one should have ever let you on Facebook." Clint shook his head before stopping up short. "Wait, wait. Aw, hell: Tony and Pepper, isn't it?" 

Steve blushed further but gave him a short, crisp nod. 

"Man. Good luck with that. Pepper is aces but I don't envy you Tony."

"He's easier to handle one-on-one," Steve said innocently, then turned red again. "I didn't mean!"

Clint was too busy laughing to comment. The rest of the walk was made without much conversation. The dogs were dragging, worn out by the events of the day, so there was no jogging and they did not get back to the tower until well after seven p.m. Clint invited Steve in for a beer, which Steve always accepted and enjoyed even if the alcohol didn't do anything for him. 

Steve was putting up the leashes as Clint went to check on Donut. The bed was empty and Clint figured she had moved to one of her perches so he toured the flat looking for her. Then he did a second tour, and then started on a third.

"What's wrong?" Steve stood by the refrigerator with two beers in hand.

"Can't find Donut."

"She is small. Maybe she snuck somewhere to get some quiet."

"She had plenty of quiet while we were out with the dogs." Clint got down on his hands and knees and crawled around the living room, looking under the sofa and behind furniture. 

Steve sighed the sigh of a man humoring his friend as he started helping look for Donut. Ten minutes later, there was still no Donut, and Clint thought he was developing sudden-onset asthma because he could barely breathe. 

"Oh hey, we should have thought of it." Steve snapped his fingers. "JARVIS!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Do you know where Donut is?"

"Yes, she requested to see Agent Coulson."

Clint sat back on his heels and looked at the ceiling. "She what?"

"I received input indicating that she wished to see Agent Coulson. As I have no instructions regarding her access to the tower, I assisted her in going to his medical suite."

"Weird," Steve said, squinting.

"It is only two floors down, Captain." JARVIS actually sounded a little affronted. 

"I meant…never mind. C'mon, Hawkeye. Let's go rescue your cat."

"Get the leashes."

Steve shook his head. "The dogs are pooped."

"Yeah, but if I go see Coulson without them, they will wait until I am asleep and then eat my liver."

Steve squinted at him. "I don't think you really know these dogs as well as you think you do." 

"Leashes." Clint pointed at the storage closet. 

Clint put Donut's sling on so he'd have some safe place to stash her, and then they were out the door. The dogs were tired but excited to be going out _twice in one night_ and didn't clue in to the fact they were going to see Phil until they were walking down the hall of the medical floor. Clint was very used to that particular floor, being one of the Avengers without super powers or super healing or super anything, so he knew for a fact where Phil had been stashed: one of the corner overnight rooms. The dogs started prancing and then started pulling, and even Steve with his super-strength was tugging at Bucky and Stevie's leashes to haul them back. 

When they got to the room, the dogs threw themselves against the leashes, hauling Steve and Clint in after them. Phil looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, Donut in the curve of his arm, on her back with her tail happily twitching. 

"Your cat takes after you," Phil said as the dogs clamored around his feet.

"She likes belly rubs?" Clint said and then cringed. Steve laughed and shook his head.

Phil's ears went pink. "I meant she's an escape artist."

"It's a new thing." Clint shrugged. 

"Okay, we found her. Here." Steve handed over the leashes. "You're on your own. I've got a date." Steve blushed and gave Phil a small smile. "Not with Clint, by the way. With, uh, other people."

Phil blinked at him, clearly picking up on the plural. "Oh." 

Steve patted Phil on the shoulder, scratched under Donut's chin and gave Clint a friendly shove as he walked out. Clint found himself face to face with Phil.

"So. It's an, ah, open relationship?" Phil asked, looking down at Donut and rubbing her belly. Right then, Clint was jealous as hell of his cat, and that seemed wrong.

"It's not. It's not a relationship, I mean." Clint shook his head.

Phil motioned at his bedside tablet. "I looked up AmeriHawk. There is a lot of it out there. And the _Dog Fancy_ photo shoot was…inspired."

"Ugh." Clint went and sat down in one of the visitor chairs. "I knew that was a bad idea, but Pepper is tricksy."

Phil sighed. "Everyone is on first name basis now. It is hard to believe I've been out for over four months, until Captain Rogers called you Clint, and you call Ms. Potts Pepper."

Clint stared at the floor. 

Phil cleared his throat. "There is no AmeriHawk?"

"Steve just helps walk the dogs. I needed the help, too. They've been pretty upset since you died. Not-died. What the fuck ever." Clint tipped his head back, wondering how much longer the day could possibly get. 

"You've done great with them. They look healthy and they've bonded with you." Phil's foot was rubbing back and forth over Stevie's back as Dum Dum and Bucky kept pacing between the bed and the chair that Clint was in. 

"They missed you. It was mean to do that to them." Clint felt himself getting mad, although he told himself not to. It was just ridiculous that he and the dogs had been through _hell_ when Phil had been alive the whole time. 

"I can understand why Fury kept this a secret."

"Well I sure as fuck can't!" Clint yelled, surging up. "Do you know what that did to me? Knowing that I led the attack that helped Loki _kill you_? Knowing that you were _dead_ because of me? Knowing that I lost every chance I ever had with you because I'm such a fuck up? No! I don't understand it at all! I was off duty and in therapy for nearly three god-damn months because I lost the love of my life, and Fury knew that! He knew why! What the _hell_ , Phil? You think taking care of your damn dogs made up for any of that? Every day they looked at me waiting for me to bring you back, and I couldn't, you were _DEAD_ and—" He gave up, sinking down to the floor, where Stevie crawled into his lap and licked his face. Clint wrapped his arms around the dog and held on, rocking him, trying to clear his mind. 

He heard Phil walking over, slowly and carefully, and then sat down in the chair behind him. Clint leaned back just enough to feel Phil's leg press against his back lightly. 

"Clint."

Clint let go of Stevie, who was promptly replaced by Bucky, who liked shoving his nose into Clint's armpit and did so. It tickled but Clint was in no mood to dislodge the dog, who seemed to need comfort as much as he did. He sucked in a breath when he felt Phil's fingers carding through his hair.

"Clint."

"I missed you. I fucking missed you so bad. It hurt. It hurt and it was my fault and now you're alive and you want your dogs back and I'm going to miss them and, and, fuck. I always lose something." He buried his face in Bucky's ruff of fur. 

He heard Donut's peculiar little mew and he dislodged Bucky as he sat up, turning around. She was in Phil's lap, staring at him, one paw out and patting the air in front of her. Clint leaned forward until her paw was smacking at his nose and his chest was pressed up against Phil's thigh. He brought up one hand and draped it over his cat, his little witchy, prissy girl who was everything to him. 

"Yeah, girl, I still got you." He put his head down on Phil's thigh and let Donut head butt him. 

It was a moment before he realized that Phil was still petting him. 

"Sir?"

"Clint."

"Phil?" Clint looked up at Phil, who was staring down at him with eyes full of affection.

"I'm not at my best. If you want me to kiss you, you're going to have to come up here." 

Clint just stared at him. Donut smacked him on the chin. "Hey!" He grabbed her paw. She shook it until he let go, and only then did he look back up at Phil. 

Phil's hand gentled over Clint's face, his palm caressing his cheek and then moving to hold Clint's chin, looking into his eyes. "I'm making an assumption here, based on your comments about missing your chance with the love of your life."

Clint blanched, remembering what he said. "I don't understand—"

"Why do you think I left the dogs to you?" 

"Because I'm a chump?" Clint's heart jumped to his throat.

"Because I love you. I trust you. I knew you would take care of them for me. In the end I thought it was the most you would be willing to accept from me."

"You're joking." Clint's brain stuttered over the words Phil was throwing at him. 

"No. I've been in love with you for a long time." He pointed at the bed. "I'm supposed to be asleep. Recovering. But I could not get you out of my mind, so I spent three exhausting hours looking at how happy you are with Captain Rogers, walking my dogs and." He stopped dead there.

"You saw the news shots of that laser guy's attack?" Clint cringed.

"It did look rather compromising." Phil glanced away.

"We were in the middle of a battle! God, never mind, no one listens." He thunked his head down on Phil's thigh.

"So that's a 'no' on being kissed?" Phil asked, his voice light but strained. 

Clint sat up on his knees, keeping one hand on Donut but wrapping his other hand around Phil's neck. As he pulled him in and their lips brushed, Clint let out a hard grunt. Phil gave him a startled look and leaned back. 

"Your damn dog is on my feet again," Clint said through clinched teeth, looking back at where Dum Dum had sprawled across his feet and ankles. 

Phil's expression turned from surprised to amused to shocked. He stared down at Dum Dum.

Clint dropped his hand from Phil's neck, sensing that something was going on that he did not understand. "What?"

"Does he do this a lot?"

"Only when I stop long enough." Clint sighed, wondering what had happened to the kissing idea.

"Clint," Phil said, his hand clutching at Clint's arm.

"What?"

Phil looked up at him. "They are rescue dogs."

"You mentioned that once. Yeah, so?"

"Dum Dum was starving and beaten when he was brought in to Corgi Rescue. He didn't trust anyone; it took weeks before he stopped hiding whenever anyone walked into the room."

"Well I can't fucking tell, he's always dumping his ass on me." Clint was still on his knees with a corgi trapping his lower legs, and there was no kissing going on.

"Clint, he won't get on the bed with me, even now. I've taken care of him for three years, and he still won't eat from my hand."

Clint thought back, and realized that, in fact, every time he had seen Phil giving Dum Dum treats he always put them on the ground for the dog to eat up. He looked down at Dum Dum, who looked back up him with his tongue lolling. "He's always sitting on me."

Phil shook his head, still surprised. "He finally bonded with Stevie and Bucky after a few months but I've never known him to feel safe with another person, not even me. But he's completely at ease with you."

"Not just me, he let Thor pick him up."

Phil looked stunned. "You're kidding."

"No. And believe me, this is his favorite thing. It's like owning corgi slippers, he's always on my feet."

Phil was looking at Clint with an expression that on anyone else would be awe. "He feels safe with you."

"I had them for four months," Clint sighed and crossed his arms, the mood of whatever they had going effectively broken. "I think they broke _me_."

"You bonded with my dogs," Phil said, taking Clint's face in his hands. His touch was shaky and he still looked like hell, but he was smiling. "You know what this means?"

"No?" Clint caught his breath as the feelings all rushed back, the fear and the need and the anger and the _need_. "Phil, please," he begged as Phil tugged him into a long, soft kiss. 

Phil broke the kiss with a deep breath, holding their foreheads together. "It means you get a matched set."

"What?" Clint tried to think through his heated blood rush.

"I go where my dogs go, Clint. If you want to keep the dogs, you need to plan on keeping me too."

Clint stared at Phil's slick, wet lips. "I keep everything?"

Phil smiled. "This time, I think you do." He leaned forward and kissed Clint again. Between them, Donut snorted and squirmed, so Clint lifted her to his chest as he closed the distance between him and Phil. Dum Dum grumbled and flopped onto his back, angled over both of Clint's calves while Steve and Bucky stood guard in front of the chair. 

It was an awkward, graceless kiss, but Clint couldn't remember a better one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an epilogue coming up, FYI.


	17. Epilogue!

Clint stood in the corner, waiting. In front of him, Stevie sat happily with his tongue hanging out, looking over the common room. Phil walked in and stopped reading his tablet to look at them. 

"Well, that's one of you."

Clint crossed his arms. "Natasha is sparring with Steve."

"I meant the dogs." 

"Right." Clint dropped his arms, sighing, and Donut grumbled at him from her sling. "Would you tell him to move?" He pointed at Stevie.

"Only if you promise to stop trying to sneak out of the Tower with Donut." Phil's eyes narrowed.

"How did you—okay, look, she's MY cat! I can take her out if I want! You and Steve take the Cor-mmandos out all the time without us!"

"You know how they feel about this, Clint. You can't relieve them from duty just because you want a triple shot caramel mocha breve latte." 

"I don't drink that crap." Clint stood still, trying not to give away any of his tells. Donut mewed, though, and Phil looked at Clint with pity.

"Fine. Fine! Sometimes a guy just needs a lot of sugar and caffeine, okay?" 

"What bothers me is that Bucky and Dum Dum are missing," Phil said, ignoring his outburst.

"Don't look at me. I was trying for—I was heading for the elevator when this guy started snapping at my heels." Clint waved at Stevie, who was still looking smug and unmoved in front of him. 

"Agent Coulson, I believe your missing companions are on their way now," Jarvis intoned.

"Thank you, Jarvis." Phil turned towards the elevator. The four of them waited for a moment and then Thor landed outside with a loud thud on the Iron Man landing pad, a dog under each arm, held like footballs. Phil spun and moved so fast that Stevie scrambled to catch up, and Clint dove to grab the dog's tail just as the glass doors hissed open for Phil, who looked like he was going to go straight through the glass if they hadn't. Clint executing a theoretically impossible controlled roll down to grab Stevie while not crushing Donut just pissed her off, and she hopped out of the sling and walked over Clint's face on her way to the deluxe, eight foot tall multi-storied cat tower that Tony had built for her near the windows. 

"Argh!" Clint yelled, wrestling with Stevie who wanted to charge out onto the platform after Phil. 

"Son of Coul!" Thor smiled broadly as he walked in, passing Bucky to Phil's grabby hands as if handing over a beer. "These 'pets' of yours are truly inspiring! A life a leisure, sharing epic poems, eating, sleeping, pissing in the wilds — who would not envy them this?" 

Phil stared at Thor, at a complete loss for words as Bucky licked his chin. The glass doors finally hissed closed and Clint let go of Stevie, who bounced over to Thor. He put Dum Dum down, and the dog immediately went and sniffed after Donut's trail to the cat tower. As Clint got up, Thor grabbed Stevie. 

"Yes, it is your turn! The wind in your hair, burning your eyes, you will love it, Pet Stevie! Shall we bring the witch?" He held Stevie up in front of him and looked him in the eye. 

"NO!" Phil and Clint shouted together.

Thor tucked an uncomplaining Stevie under one arm. "But witches love to fly."

"No!" Clint repeated. "You are not taking my cat for an Asgardian joyride!" 

Thor tilted his head, then looked over at Donut. She was at the very top, both of her front paws hanging over the edge of the shelf, looking out at them. They all looked at her and then at each other again. 

"No."

"My dear friend, it is not really your choice."

"She's my cat!"

"She is your _witch_." Thor gave him a look of kind, fond pity. "You are a great warrior, Hawkeye, but in daily matters you are but her familiar. She will put you where she wants you." Thor looked over at Donut, who mah-mah'ed at him. Thor shrugged. "She says she does not wish to upset you, though, as you are delicate and she worries about your state of mind." Thor walked over and slapped his hand down on Clint's shoulder, nearly making his knees buckle. "She will only fly if you are with her, which is clearly right and just, as any witch would not wish to travel far without her familiar nearby. I shall take you both up after I have gifted Pet Stevie with his desire to see Central Park from the sky." He turned to Phil. "You were wrong, pets love to fly."

With that, Thor turned and walked back out onto the landing pad and jumped into the sky, Mjolinir twirling from his free wrist and Stevie barking happily. 

Phil was still holding Bucky, looking shell shocked, his mouth open. After a moment he snapped his jaws together. "If he drops my dogs, I will kill him, and no one will be able to stop me." He clutched at Bucky, who squirmed in the too-tight hold.

"He loves those dogs, he won't drop them. Hey, Phil? Phil, hey, put the guy down, you're strangling him." Clint rubbed Phil's arms, and after a few seconds Phil leaned over and gently put Bucky on the ground. The dog immediately ran over and joined Dum Dum on guard duty at the bottom of Donut's tower. Clint pulled Phil into his arms. "Stevie's fine, the boys are fine, Thor's crazy. All is right with the world."

Phil sighed, wrapping his arms around Clint's waist. "I should have guessed you were a witch's familiar. Everything makes so much sense now," Phil said, his voice lilting with a suppressed laugh, pressing his face into Clint's shoulder. 

Clint shrugged. "Yeah, actually, it does kind of make sense."

Phil laughed and leaned back enough to kiss him, his mouth warm and affectionate. Clint was fine with whatever they wanted to call him, as long as he could hold on to all the things he had been lucky enough to keep. He kissed back, pushing his body up against Phil's, and enjoying his own version of a joy ride while they waited for Thor to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Update 3/15/2013:_ The amazing [Tawg](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tawg/pseuds/tawg) has actually written a coda to this that fits in beautifully between the final chapter and this epilogue. It's called [Salvage](http://archiveofourown.org/works/721665) and details Phil's recovery; it is in turns hilarious, angsty, heart-felt and fluffy, featuring Clint, the Cor-mmandos, the Avengers and Donut as they try to nurse Phil back to full health. I love it and and I love Tawg, so go read it!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Salvaged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/721665) by [tawg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawg/pseuds/tawg)




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